


Let Me Help

by starforged



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Kylo Ren Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:13:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6943084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starforged/pseuds/starforged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't want to think about how she can do things with the Force that he can't, and he doesn't want to think about how gentle her hands are on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Help

“I don’t need you–”

His words are cut off by the loudest sigh he has ever heard, which is accompanied by a roll of eyes so hard, he’s surprised they don’t get swallowed up by her skull. He grits his teeth and swallows his protest. Mostly because now she’s just making fun of him, he knows it.

“You’re injured. Let me help.”

His finger itches to point at his face, where the scar cuts it in two pieces. Where she wounded him, where she carved into him with a lightsaber. _His_ lightsaber.

Rey’s brow arches at him, and he knows that she knows what he’s thinking. She doesn’t apologize, though. She never will. 

He doesn’t want the apology.

Her fingers are cool, skin calloused as she grips his arm in hand. Three long scratches run from wrist to forearm, ghastly, bleeding. They burn and itch. He just wants to wrap them and keep going. He’s had worse. He doesn’t care. 

But Rey, she does. There’s a well inside of her that seems endless, a kindness that seems impossible. It reminds him of his uncle sometimes, and sometimes it seems completely different. 

Her free hand hovers over the wounds, her brows drawn together now. Sweat beads across her forehead, and he watches it with a certain kind of intensity, like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

Mostly he just doesn’t want to look at the way his skin slowly knits back together. He can feel it, physically and within the Force that’s gathered around them, in her hand. 

He doesn’t want to care because he can’t do it, and that irritates him, like sand in his boots. He doesn’t want to care because she cares enough to do this for him. And that’s what it is, as her hand begins to shake and her grip tightens and more sweat rolls down the side of her face. She’s not showing off, like he would. 

After a moment, when her breath pants out like she’s been running a marathon in the jungle, his hand closes over hers.

“I’m not going to carry you around if you pass out.”

The Force lessens, and there’s still a terrible itch in his arm, but her break in concentration means she’s not healing him anymore.

“You’ve done it before,” she puffs out.

“That was different,” the man formerly known as Ben says. He tugs his arm away. “There was a purpose for that.”

The look she gives him would have more to it if she wasn’t so exhausted, he thinks.


End file.
